On the morning of the third day of the lunar new year, at six thirty, the air in the bedroom was already as cold as an ice cave. I struggled out from the pile of quilts, my teeth chattering uncontrollably, every breath condensing into thick white fog under the dim desk lamp light and refusing to disperse for a long time. The air conditioner panel coldly displayed 5 degrees — it had clearly been 15 degrees before sleep last night, dropping a full 10 degrees overnight. The rules were merciless, executing a 10-degree drop every day on time, like an invisible knife slicing into me again and again. I piled everything I could cover myself with — two quilts, one thick down jacket, even the sweater I took off yesterday — all on top of me, yet I still felt cold air seeping out from my bones, my fingers so stiff I could barely grip the quilt corners. That kind of cold was not simple low temperature but despair deep in the marrow, making every breath feel like I was wrestling with the god of death.
I did not rush to get out of bed. First I lay there with my eyes closed, concentrating on feeling the familiar yet faint warm current inside my body. The light blue panel slowly emerged, floating on my retina like a thin protective film:
[Current spirit-breaking power: 8 points (remaining from last night) + 9 points recovered from night rest = 17 points]
The recovery was a bit more than yesterday, perhaps an invisible compensation from the system because the temperature was even lower. But I immediately shook my head — don't think about nice things, no matter how much compensation there was, it could not offset tonight's consumption. I had to use every single point on the blade. Although the three impacts last night were blocked by the level 2 inscription, who knew if even fiercer ones would come tonight? My physical foundation could no longer withstand continuous high-intensity strain; I had to calculate every account clearly. At thirty-five years old, I used to stay up late reading novels at most, but now I had to fight ghosts in a room below minus ten degrees — one careless move and my soul would scatter.
My movements were as light as a thief's. I moved the chair wedged against the door aside, opened the bedroom door a crack, and first listened carefully to the hall with my ears. The alarms were quiet, the refrigerator compressor was still running with a strained hum, and the balcony glass was being slapped by the wind with pa pa sounds. No anomaly. Only then did I step little by little to the suite main door and look out through the peephole. The corridor light was deathly pale, the opposite 1401 door was tightly closed, and the stairwell doors and elevator door on both sides of the corridor showed no movement at all. There were no water stains, no footprints, no black ash on the ground — no traces whatsoever. But I knew clearly in my heart that daytime was only temporary breathing space; the real danger was always hidden at night. That illusion of "surface calm" made goosebumps rise on my back again.
Back in the bedroom I relocked the door tightly, sat at the computer desk, and first turned on the phone. I only read WeChat and sent no messages. The corridor group was already 999+, and the 33-building community group had broken a thousand. I scrolled down line by line without blinking:
[This snow is too eerie, my balcony is piled ten centimeters high, the wind blows it straight into the house!]
[Is anyone home on the 14th floor? Property management is asking for stay-behind registration again, saying they will distribute emergency supplies.]
[1402 received several express deliveries during the day but never replies to messages — nothing happened, right?]
[The opposite 1401 seems to have had no movement since the second day, the elevator keeps ringing at midnight, could it be…]
[If this weather keeps dropping, minus tens of degrees, who can endure it?]
Property management @ all once again to count stay-behind personnel and said the community would uniformly distribute heating packs. My finger hovered above the keyboard, but in the end I typed not a single word. I would absolutely never respond to any knock, any message, or any request for help. No matter how familiar my parents' voices sounded from outside, I would only clamp my mouth shut tightly and not make a sound. In this parallel world, except for myself, anyone could be a dream hunter disguised to fish for information. No one could be trusted. If I replied with even one sentence, the other side could immediately confirm that 1402 still had a living person, and the following dream hunters would swarm like sharks smelling blood. That imagination made my spine run cold, yet it also made me even more determined: silence was the only law of survival.
Next was survival time.
It was daytime now, so I first opened instant delivery platforms like Dingdong Buy Vegetables and Meituan Supermarket, prioritizing searches for stronger defense items that could be delivered within 30 to 90 minutes. Taobao's next-day delivery was put in the second round.
In Dingdong I searched "blank-level hall guard" and "low-tier trap supplement", and found a "simple pressure-sensing floor mat" priced 149 yuan, estimated 50 minutes delivery, which could be laid in the hall and emit a sharp alarm once anything stepped on it; another "basic smoke interference sprayer" 119 yuan, within 60 minutes, which would spray harmless but temporarily vision-obscuring smoke after being triggered. The reviews were sparse, but I could not care about that anymore — buy first. I paid with Huabei, total 268 yuan + 15 yuan shipping, placed the order. While paying my fingers were trembling slightly — every consumption might trigger cashback, but it might also continue to drain me; I had to spend every single spirit-breaking power point on the blade.
After confirming there were no stronger options in the instant platforms, I switched to Taobao. The "basic defense inscription enhancement talisman" I ordered yesterday was estimated to arrive today daytime, so I first checked the order status: within 48 hours, now showing "today morning 10-12 delivery". I searched again for "low-tier water pipe insulation kit"; because the temperature kept dropping, the risk of water pipes freezing and cracking at night was high, but preserving life came first, so I only picked the cheapest "blank-level anti-freeze tape" 99 yuan, estimated tomorrow daytime arrival. Paid with Huabei.
I placed another order for "basic hall electric shock net" 198 yuan, blank level, which could be laid on the ground to give light electric shocks to intruders, also paid with Huabei.
Total three Taobao orders, Huabei limit was still enough.
Around seven thirty-five, the sky brightened a little and the wind sound weakened slightly. I went to the kitchen, heated a bowl of yesterday's leftover rice with the electric stove, added some luncheon meat, and stood in the open kitchen eating slowly. The rice was cold and hard, the canned meat salty and bitter, but I had to eat my fill to maintain strength. In the past during New Year I could still video with my parents while eating dumplings, but now I was alone gnawing canned food in a 5-degree room, and the neighborhood outside the window felt like another world. While eating, I suddenly recalled how when I was little my parents always said "eat your fill to have strength to grow up", but now I was thinking: eat your fill to have strength to survive. That longing for family surged like a tide, and I forced back the tears so they would not fall into the bowl.
After eating I washed the bowl clean. At eight oh five I used spirit-breaking power to upgrade the water pipe insulation once — although not the most urgent, after pipes froze and cracked I would not be able to bathe or drink water, which would indirectly kill me.
[Consumed 7 spirit-breaking power points to upgrade water pipe insulation to level 1, remaining 10 points]
The golden cashback panel popped out:
[This use of 7 spirit-breaking power points, random cashback multiplier calculating…]
[This cashback multiplier 1.3 times, returned 9.1 spirit-breaking power points (rounded to 9 points)!]
[Current total: 19 points]
A small gain of 2 points. My heart warmed slightly, but I immediately suppressed it — I could not relax; the random distribution meant high multipliers might only stabilize later.
At nine twenty-five, the first batch of instant delivery arrived. I constantly monitored the app and, the moment the packages arrived, put on thick gloves, confirmed the corridor was empty through the peephole multiple times, opened the suite main door a crack just wide enough for the packages, quickly dragged the two packages inside, immediately slammed the door shut, locked it, and chained it. The entire process made my heart race as if it would explode. I tore open the packaging and laid the pressure-sensing floor mat in the hall near the main door, then fixed the smoke interference sprayer on the door frame side. After finishing, my arms were shaking — not from cold, but from tension. At least the hall now had two more layers of warning and counterattack. (I collected them immediately upon arrival to prevent any weird pollution.)
Around ten fifteen, the Taobao packages started arriving one after another. First was the basic defense inscription enhancement talisman I ordered yesterday. I repeated the extremely cautious process: checked the peephole three times, put on gloves, opened the door a narrow crack, quickly dragged the package in, immediately dead-locked and chained it. I tore open the packaging and stuck the talisman according to the instructions. The panel refreshed:
[Suite main door inscription strengthened, can withstand two extra impacts from lowest-level dream hunters]
The water pipe insulation supplementary materials I ordered yesterday also arrived; I carefully received them again and wrapped all remaining anti-freeze tape on the kitchen and bathroom water pipes to further reduce freezing risk.
At eleven oh five, familiar light slow footsteps suddenly came from the corridor outside, stopping right outside the main door. The door handle turned — once, twice. Almost at the same time, the two electric shock stickers triggered together with two crisp "pa pa" electric sounds, blue-white arcs flashing fiercely. A suppressed muffled groan immediately came from outside, as if the whole body twitched from the shock, and the door handle turning motion stopped instantly. Then the sound-light alarm host exploded, the piercing alarm plus red-blue flashing light instantly filled the hall like a police interrogation room, the pressure-sensing mat also screamed, and the smoke sprayer and paralyzing spray both triggered, white fog instantly filling the entire hall. I grabbed the hand crossbow gun and aimed at the door direction, pulling the trigger; through that incomprehensible mechanism, the crossbow arrow's power directly penetrated the door panel, and a more miserable muffled cry came from outside, the footsteps staggered backward, and the elevator dinged and left quickly.
I huddled on the bedroom chair, my back covered in cold sweat. Only after half an hour did I dare move to the peephole to look — the corridor was still empty, only a little snow powder blown in by the wind on the ground.
At one fifty in the afternoon, the temperature had dropped to 4 degrees, the wind was夹 with fine snow smashing against the glass. I continued browsing Taobao for more practical low-tier defense props. After flipping for more than two hours my eyes were sore; finally I placed another order — "blank-level door panel reinforcement board" 299 yuan, which could be stuck on the inner side of the main door to increase physical strength, estimated tomorrow daytime arrival. Paid with Huabei.
Around three ten, the basic hall laser warning device I ordered yesterday afternoon also arrived. I repeated the same extremely cautious process again: peephole confirmation, narrow door crack, quick drag-in, dead lock and chain. I tore open the packaging and fixed the laser warning device in the hall corner, adjusting the angle so the weak laser would cover a wider area and interfere with sight once intrusion occurred.
At five o'clock, the sky had already darkened like deep night, the wind-snow sound growing more violent. I cooked some instant noodles, sat on the bedroom bed eating slowly. The computer was on but the volume turned almost inaudible, continuing the movie. In the group someone posted: "14th floor received a lot of express deliveries again today, someone must be home, why won't they reply to property management messages at all?" I immediately turned off the phone.
At seven o'clock in the evening the sky was completely dark, temperature 3 degrees, snow falling heavier and heavier. At nine thirty-five, movement appeared outside again. This time it was not only footsteps but also heavy "dong dong dong dong" like someone slamming the door with their body. The sound-light alarm host erupted at full power, paralyzing spray sprayed wildly, lasers swept randomly, and the electric shock stickers also triggered "pa pa" twice again when the handle was touched. I once more grabbed the hand crossbow gun and aimed at the door direction, pulling the trigger; through that incomprehensible mechanism, the crossbow arrow's power directly penetrated the door panel, and two continuous miserable cries came from outside, the slamming sound clearly weakened, hesitated for a moment, then slammed four more times before gradually weakening, and the elevator sound left.
I huddled on the bedroom bed, my fingers ice-cold and almost losing sensation. With 19 spirit-breaking power points, tomorrow daytime I could continue strengthening defense. The mortgage and credit card Huabei bills would be automatically deducted next month, and the system would remind me. I had to support myself step by step.
At one o'clock in the morning, the wind-snow sound had turned into a wild beast's roar. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the increasingly crazy blizzard outside, my mind repeatedly calculating what to buy first tomorrow daytime and how to allocate the remaining spirit-breaking power. The entire suite was like an isolated island in the snowy night, quiet with only my own breathing left.